More of the crucial glory

 "'In the Cross of Christ I Glory,' declared  the nineteenth century hymn writer John Browning. It seems a strange, even bizarre, glory. "We have beheld his glory," St. John wrote, meaning that he was there, with Mary, beholding the final and perfect sacrifice. In the churches of Asia Minor that were founded by John, Easter was celebrated not on Sunday, as with other churches, but on 14 Nisan, the anniversary of Christ's death. This was his 'hour' of glory. The resurrection ratified and reinforced what was already displayed on the cross. When John, therefore, places Mary at the cross, he is placing her at the very center of salvation. She was there with him, beholding a glory different from, even the opposite of, everything ordinarily meant by glory. It was God's glory, which is love." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

For me and for Fr. Neuhaus, this passage is a continuation of the one I began to reflect on the other day and subjugated the the Holy Father's prayer agenda. This thought process reinforces my prior thoughts about what Jesus himself meant whenever he referred to being glorified, and how we ourselves tend to view pain as something to avoid rather than embrace as an act of love when God reveals it as his plan for our lives. (I'm sure I have shared some related ideas about how husbands are called to love their wives, too.)

I love how Fr. Neuhaus has tied Jesus's sacrifice for us to the fullest possible expression of God's love. Maybe more than anything else, this is why it is so important to spend time reflecting on Good Friday. We prefer to rejoice in the resurrection, and perhaps we should. But the victory that the resurrection expresses was won on Calvary. How apt that St. John insisted on celebrating Easter on the anniversary of that date.

I will, however, make this objection to Fr. Neuhaus's thoughts: it wasn't John who placed Mary at the cross. It was Mary's devoted love for her son that caused her to be there, in the grace bestowed on her that led to her initial and ongoing fiat. 

We never know where our fiat, our availability, will take us, either, but it will be glorious, and perhaps strangely so.

We should know better

 "'For God has consigned all men to disobedience, that he may have mercy upon all.' The entire discussion of judgment and grace in the Letter to the Romans is to drive home how total is our dependence on God's grace in Christ. If we draw a distinction between ourselves and others--even if the distinction is that we do and they do not trust God's grace in Christ--we diminish the radicality of our dependence on grace. We are saying that, at least with respect to our faith, we are different from them, we are somehow not under the same judgment." Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

For starters: the passage that this quotation starts with is Rom 11:32, and its context is St. Paul emphasizing that both Jews and Gentiles are under judgment. But the mercy of God in reconciling us to himself in Christ Jesus is for all. 

But the point of this has been nagging at me for a really long time now, as I watch my fellow believers cast judgment. Why, when God has bestowed on us such an incredible gift of grace, do we insist on futile efforts to justify ourselves in comparison with our brothers and sisters? We are instead to be vessels of grace for them, not on our own terms but by meeting others where they are and sharing the love of God with all. 

"Inadequate" faith

"Dysmas has faith smaller than a mustard seed, and it blossoms into a tree of eternal life, a tree of paradise. Christ's response to our faith is ever so much greater than our faith. Give him an opening, almost any opening, and he opens life to wonder beyond measure."

"When our faith is weak, when we are assailed by contradictions and doubts, we are tempted to look at our faith, to worry about our faith, to try to work up more faith. at such times, however, we must not look to our faith but look to him. Look to him, listen to him, and faith will take care of itself." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I knew I had to have previously blogged on some of this, or on the later, somewhat repetitive one that was underlined by my friend Ellie who gave me this book at a time when I was concerned over the weakness of my faith. I think we put so much stress on ourselves concerning our perceived lack of faith because we are so often tempted to think of our faith as the way we earn or deserve our salvation. It's especially tempting when we've been told that we're saved by faith alone, putting the emphasis slightly in the wrong place compared with the scripture that says we are saved by grace through faith. Luther added "alone," and insisted that the "papists" would never get it out. 

But "faith alone" can still give us the wrong impression that our salvation is up to us. Our faith is itself is a gift God gives us. Yes, we have a responsibility to respond to it, but that response is also God's gift to us. It's all grace. We don't in any way earn our place in Christ, even by our response to him. All we do is cooperate in his plan for us, but that participation is still his gift. This is why the "faith alone" versus "faith plus works" argument is such a futile waste of breath. It's all grace. 

And that's why it's so useless to try to debate who has forfeited their place by the way they have failed to cooperate with grace. We have all failed in some way to do so. Over-focusing on our faith is like over-scrutinizing our sin: both things take our focus off of Jesus and his call and example, though that's an inadequate word, to love. It's inadequate because what we really need is for Jesus to love through us, to work through our will and actions to express his love into the lives of those around us. 

Envying the "Good Thief"

I'm not leading off this post with a quotation right now, and if you just read one it's because I came back in and added it when I get that far in the book. Also, I've written a little about this thought before, from a different angle. But I have been thinking about the implications of yesterday's post and wanted to capture this thought.

I think it says a lot about our miscomprehension of sin that we either begrudge or envy those who experience deathbed conversions. "They're sneaking in at the last minute!" we protest, "It isn't fair!" When he told us that we can only enter the kingdom as little children, this isn't what the Lord meant! In fact, Jesus told an entire long parable about this issue so that we wouldn't miss the point. Still, we don't get it.

Maybe that's partly because, due to the creation narrative concerning our fall from grace, we view work as a necessary evil that we must bear, so neither we nor the workers in the parable consider meaningful labor as God's gift to us. Even when it's the incredible opportunity to share God's love with the beloved, we think of the labor as a chore. And secondly, because we have partaken of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (really? four "of's" in one phrase?) we decide for ourselves that sin is pleasant to engage in, and even good for us. As a result, we are jealous of those who "get" to partake in sin their whole lives and never "have to" do any work to promote the kingdom, yet still manage to squeak into "their heavenly reward" at the very end of their lives. 

I could offer the concept of Purgatory as a solution to this issue, and as a Catholic I believe it's a valid one with a good Scriptural foundation. But I think the point that Fr. Neuhaus is going to make, probably somewhere in this chapter, is a more pertinent one. The truth is that God has not and will not withhold from us anything that is truly good for us. He may be in the business of using even our sin to achieve his purposes, to bring us to our senses so we return home to him. But we are still better off when we choose to walk with him at every opportunity. The real reward of serving God in his kingdom and knowing his love even while we walk on this earth is that we get to know and serve God, which is a greater joy and blessing than any sinful temptation. 

And doing so doesn't make us less of an undeserving recipient of grace that the good thief or deathbed confessor. It just allows us to receive more joy as we journey through this world toward our eternal home.

I'm a thief!

"Recall now the two criminals. Mentioned in all four Gospels, they were called thieves by two of the Gospel writers. Whatever else they had stolen in their lives, the one, commonly called 'the good thief,' stole at the end a reward he did not deserve." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

I am convinced that the chief obstacle to Christians living our calling is our failure to realize that we are all, at best, the good thief. At whatever point we accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we enter into the transformative journey to become Christ present in the world. And yet, rather than embrace the truth that we remain unworthy of the priceless gift that God has given us through Jesus, we often live our lives as though the purpose of our faith is to help us reach the point at which we no longer need a Savior. I'm pretty certain that isn't God's plan for us, but rather that we continually embrace our complete dependence on God's grace and mercy as poured out for us in Christ Jesus. 

We think of heaven as a reward, and indeed it is. But it is Jesus' reward, not ours. At our best moment, we are the good thief, undeserving of grace but receiving it because God is love and we, wretched though we be, are God's beloved sons and daughters. We deserve that no more than we do our own conception. 

The Great Reversal

 "Yet it hardly seems possible that injustice could be set right by a still greater injustice, that wrong could be set right by a still greater wrong. That is what St. Paul seems to suggest, however, in the passage in which he speaks of God in Christ reconciling the world to himself:  "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that we might become the righteousness of God." The language is radical. It is not simply that he bore the consequences of sin, but that he was made to be sin. The great reversal reverses all of our preconceptions: God must become what we are in order that we might become what God is. To effectively take our part, he must take our place." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

Fr. Neuhaus goes on in the next few pages to further probe this idea of how we struggle to accept this truth because it fundamentally offends our sense of justice. Everything in us screams that this cannot be right, despite our having everything to gain from it. 

So why do we resist it? Could it be because we are afraid to embrace its implications? Forgive us our sins, for we ourselves forgive everyone who sins against us. And lead us not into temptation" (Lk 11:4). If God has taken the judgment we deserve upon himself, the first part of this verse calls us to a response that portends potentially great consequences. As for the second part, we have long believed the lie that our desires are a good thing and our sin is no big deal. We're fond of our temptations, and embracing the great reversal means that we must recognize the truth so that we can receive the mercy we have been given.

There is no way to accept God's mercy without becoming vessels of it for others.

Measuring progress

Over four weeks now. Some days I feel confident, others I'm sure I'm going to fail. Both types of days, God has reminded me to depend on Him.

Another dream

I'm not sure what to make of them. I certainly know not to conclude that I'm gay. 

So far, I am not letting them lead me into fantasy, but trusting in God's revealed plan for my life.

I've been doing so well

After my dream this morning, I feel as if I'm clinging to the edge by my fingernails.

Grace. Must remember that it isn't me, it's God.

Measuring progress - days become weeks

21, so 3.

I don't expect I'll post about this on a weekly basis, at least not for long. But for now, it's good to keep reminding myself how God continues to provide grace. I'm still weak, but am trying to trust Him each day. 

If there's a next time I post about this, I'll have to drop the label "Lent" . . . 

Passionate Grace

In our reading of the Passion today, I found a moment of connection with my darkest, most shameful moment. As it briefly washed over me, I found a response other than crushing regret. I remembered that the intervening years have brought an abundance of grace and reconciliation and resurrection out of something that definitely needed to die in me.

Seems to fit today's reflection from Dynamic Catholic.

I'm sure that video link will be cleared at some point. The theme was not rushing past Palm Sunday and Holy Week to get to Easter.

Thanks a lot, Kelly

The fear of loneliness is the father of many relationships that never should have been. When we choose to be with someone because we are afraid of being alone, we dishonor ourselves and the other person. - Matthew Kelly, Resisting Happiness

And yet God can take that relationship and turn it into so. very. much. more. than it could have otherwise been.

My fear

And great was the fall of it.  Mt 7: 27b
The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous, and throw them into the furnace of fire. Mt 13: 49b-50a
Mt 18:6. I cannot type the words.

As suggested by Matthew Kelly in Resisting Happiness, I read St. Matthew's gospel this morning. I find that it accuses me with my past, especially in one sitting. I fear that the evil in my life will place me among the weeds, or the goats.

I must remember two things: that Satan tried to tempt Jesus with scripture, too, so that puts me in pretty good company in this regard (though it is unspeakably presumptuous to say so). Also, the great sorting doesn't happen until the end, and I must simply continue to make good choices along the way and participate with God's grace as He finishes transforming me.

Safe for another year

So many birthday greetings throughout the day yesterday lifted my spirits by showing me the treasure of friends and family and love with which God blesses me. The low moment toward the end of last night which could have been the beginnings of an invitation to reenter the darkness was met with a clarity of just how much I would be hurting so many people, including those equally vulnerable -- even those who weren't part of my day and whose absence may have been especially acute; I don't love or treasure them any less for it -- were I ever to succumb to it.

It isn't that the day was free of screw up or disappointment or hurt but, in perspective, what day ever is? But God always provides yet greater love and blessings, grace and mercy. His love is unfathomable, even if it is sometimes a challenge for me to remember or believe what great delight He takes in me.

He even got me to my parish in time to receive Benediction last night. What a birthday treat!

My last friend who died . . .

. . .  or, at least, whose death I knew about at the time it happened, was the son of other dear friends of ours. Our dear friends are older than we are, so their son was just a few years younger than us. Just a few weeks before he took his life, on our way to a retreat together, I'd offered him encouragement that he was seeking the right path. Unfortunately, he'd given no indication that he was dealing with such depression. It was a difficult time.

The echoes of that time are now way more complicated because of what I learned a number of years after his passing. He committed an unspeakable offense against a precious member of my family, and for both of their sake I will not be more specific than that here. Apparently I was among the last to learn of it. Even though I have forgiven him and prayed for him, this most recent passing of a friend recalls that one simply because that was the last one.

I continue to pray for you, that your brokenness is healed for all eternity. And I join you in praying for those whom you hurt.

Our never-ending dynamic

I often hear you explain to our grandchildren how they need to apologize when they hurt one another, even if their intention wasn't hurtful, even if the harm was accidental. 

This often applies to us, too.

Some days are better than others

Just when I'm doing well in one area, along comes my old companion, despair, in another, to nearly undo me. Thank you, God, for preserving me from temptation.

Resisted temptation grows stronger

I've observed before that yielding to a temptation reduces its apparent strength. Once the adversary has us, there's no need to keep us uncomfortable; he'd rather let us settle snugly into our sin. I've also pointed out that therefore no one has ever known the full power of temptation like Jesus, who never yielded to it. In my best periods, I have never managed to resist temptation for very long; my former sinfulness was so devastating that everything I deal with since seems almost trivial by comparison, and therefore almost not worth battling against. Having been set free, now I'm basically just clinging to Jesus, and feel like I'm doomed to fail anyway.

Yet I know that these last two sentences contain lies of my adversary that I have believed. I renounce them In the Name of Jesus, and repent of the sin I have used them - indeed, cultivated and embraced them - to commit. I forgive those who have instilled them in me.

Through the decades of my life, I've repeatedly seen with discouraging clarity what I was made of. Lord, please show me what You've remade me of, and let me know the strength You bring to those who rely on You in our weakness.

Resisted temptation may grow stronger, at least for a time . . . but so do we!

Finding His strength in my weakness

Every time I repent, forgive, and renounce in Jesus' authority, and receive the Father's blessing - hey, there's all Five Keys! - I feel free. But I'm still weak in the areas in which I've had to repent, just in the flesh rather than in spiritual bondage. And to the degree that I don't lean on Jesus' strength, my weakness will continue to trip me up. But when I know I'm weak, and renounce the lie that this weakness is something other than what it really is, and ask Jesus to supply the strength that I lack, I find a better answer than just continuing to fall.

It was pretty easy to do this when it was obviously a big deal. It's when we believe the lie that some sins are really no big deal that we fail to be transformed the way that He wants for us, in His perfect Love.

I'm noticing that physical tension

I've learned what it means.

I'm responding to it proactively rather than letting it continue to build up and drive my choices.

Yes, some energy goes away when I do that, energy that I might have needed following a short night of sleep, but the gain is not worth reentering the dynamic.